Arkham Knight
by Adrian Knight
Summary: Mike Lyonehart has always boasted no fear, and shows that daily working in Arkham's danger ward. But upon a sudden breakout of the most dangerous of Gotham's baddies, four of which hold a strong vendetta against Mike, none of which are as dangerous to the fearless knight as the King of Fear himself. Rated for violence, traumatic visions and slight innuendo. Mentions of rape
1. Fear No Evil

**Arkham Knight **

"Do your rounds and you are free to go," Doctor Arkham says absently, papers on his desk rustling as he impatiently searches for something. I nod from the doorway and close the heavy oak door. As I walk, I feel a pang of fear. It is quickly replaced with anger. _You have worked here for twenty years, now man up! _I say to myself, raking my short brown hair away from my eyes. The last thing I need to show is fear, especially since my rounds are in Arkham's danger wing. The Joker, The Riddler, Scarecrow, Two-Face and more…it is a lot to handle if you do not know how.

Slowly, I turn the handle and place myself amongst some of Gotham's worst criminal minds.

"Okay, everybody," I press the button that opens the glass doors, "line up for evening roll call." The men step from their cells, all eyes glaring at me, well all but one pair, who greets me with sadistic glee. I pull out my clipboard and walk down the line, saying one name at a time. "Joker?"

"Sir!" He salutes. His short green hair glows in the LED lights, paper white skin contrasted by the blood red of his lipstick. He looks down on me with his electric green eyes, his six foot six posture dwarfing me at five foot two. But I have the gun, so he does nothing else but pull on his orange jumpsuit.

"Harvey "Two-Face" Dent?"

"We're here." He growls, his good side sneering and his bad side staring hotly. His right side was chiseled, tanned with sandy blond hair and sea blue eyes almost any woman would fall for. His left side, for lack of a better comparison, was like a mangled corpse. The ex DA towers me just like the Joker, maybe lacking an inch or so.

"Edward "The Riddler" Nashton?"

"Hello, Lyonehart." The smooth talking genius says with a sly smile. His dark green eyes analyze every inch of me while he runs a hand through his short auburn hair. Unlike Joker and Two-Face, Edward barely hits the six foot range, my head an inch or so over his shoulders. I point to my right cheek and say to him,

"You have ink right here, Mister Nashton." He glares at me while rubbing his face.

"It's Nigma, Lyonehart."

"Not according to your birth certificate, _Eddie_." With a wicked smile I walk to the next one, my tone growing rigid as I say, "Doctor Jonathan "Scarecrow" Crane?"

"How are you, Lyonehart?" His soft voice inquires of me. He has long red hair pulled back by a piece of yarn; under his icy blue eyes are bags and darkness that tell of age beyond his years. Examining his carefully, I shrug my shoulders.

"I'm fine, Doctor Crane. Any more nightmares?"

"What you call a nightmare, Lyonehart, I call a trip into the true mind. And yes, I did. As a matter of fact, it was about you." I freeze, a lump suddenly forming in my throat. "Do you want to know what it was about?"

"Oh do tell," The Riddler says excitedly, clasping his hands together like child.

"Go on, Johnny-boy!" The Joker laughs using sweeping gestures. Two-Face cheers on.

"Lyonehart?"

"Sure, Doctor Crane," I face him, my eyes level with his chest until I look up at him. "W-what happened?" Mentally, I child myself for the stutter, but all this does is make the Scarecrow smile.

"You were on the ground bleeding; begging for mercy as a pack of wolves slowly devoured you from the foot up, one growling in your face, keeping you from moving to stop them. I was watching, but all I could do was laugh." Every convict in the room roars with laughter. I drop the list and run from him to the door. Time to show these animals that I am in control.

"Everyone shut up!" I shriek unsheathing my Glock and aiming at Doctor Crane. "Back in your cells, freaks." I hiss between clenched teeth. With smiles of contempt, they obey. I press the button to close the glass cells. I return the gun to my hip holster and leave the hall. Walking toward me on the opposite side of the hall is Doctor Wissler, the elderly woman stopping me in my tracks.

"How are the patients, Lyonehart?"

"Just fine, Doctor. Though, and it is just a recommendation, have someone slip some sedative in Jonathan Crane's milk at dinner tomorrow, please." She chuckles.

"I can try, Lyonehart. Have a nice evening." She looks at my empty arms.

"On the floor in front of Doctor Crane's cell."Wissler nods and makes her way to collect the board and get her evening sessions in. I keep walking, grateful to be leaving the asylum.

"Welcome home, Mike." My roommate Wanda says from the couch. She spins a pink curl around her index finger, looking at me expectantly.

"What?" I ask tossing my guard jacket on the bench by the door. She scoffs.

"Micah Lyonehart!"

"Oh, right. Sorry, no new stories. Aside from Scarecrow trying to give me heebie-jeebies, everyone was well behaved." Wanda pouts, looking like an overgrown child in her Batman pajamas. After five seconds she shakes her head and asks if I am hungry. I shake my head, pointing to my sleepy gray eyes and heading to my room.

My room is a mess, as usual. The desk beside my door is covered in sketch paper, illustrations of movie villains and real villains littered everywhere. The one there is the most of is a man called Doctor Hannibal Lector, a cannibalistic psychiatrist from "Silence of the Lambs". My drawings of him are how I imagine that Joker would look without the makeup and hair dye, but with a scar on his upper lip.

I flop on the unmade bed, hoping that Scarecrow's dream won't become my own.

When I wake at seven I turn on my TV with Gotham in an uproar. Arkham was compromised during the night, all in the danger wing escaped. Apparently some of Joker's Laughing Gas was leaked into the air vents leading to the guard locker rooms, and his Blackgate goons managed to knock out those not dead and get everyone out. I haven't been paged, so there are enough guards to…

"Mike, get out here!" I hear though the door.

"Wanda!" I throw the door open and to my surprise/horror the Dark Knight in all his glory in leering at me. "Oh, my God…"

"Micah Lyonehart, I presume?" He asks in a deep, husky voice.

"Call me Mike. What are you doing here?"

"Doctor Wissler told me that you were harassed by Jonathan Crane last night, Miss Lyonehart. I had to be certain he wasn't going to hurt you." I nod silently, his words sinking my heart.

"Jonathan Crane told me a story, a dream he said he had, about me being eaten alive by wolves. I honestly think he could have done better with trying to scare me. Just a grown man acting like a ten-year-old." I say defiantly, daring him to contradict me.

"Be that as it may, Miss Lyonehart, Jonathan Crane is unstable. His words might have meant nothing to you, but to him they were a promise."

"Fear gas…" Wanda whispers. Batman nods.

I look the Dark Knight straight in his eyes and say with conviction

"He can try, but I fear nothing."

Looking up from my caramel ice coffee, I see a shadow move on the Wayne Enterprise building. This is frigging ridiculous, I know that Scarecrow has done this before, Joker ever frightens us with his words, but they're just words.

Besides, I can fend for myself.

In the Gotham autumn breeze, my red jacket blows to the side showing my green tee shirt. The drink is gone, and after disposing of the plastic cup in a recycle can, I start down the street, hoping Batman will lose me in the crowd.

"Micah Lyonehart?" a voice to my right asks. Turning my head I see a small boy, around thirteen almost meeting me eye to eye. He is none other than the second Boy Wonder. Batman must have sent him in to weed me out.

"It's Mike, Robin. I guess you boss sent you to talk to me?" He nods, though cringes at the word "boss" like it is an insult. "Well, go on." He takes my sleeve and escorts me into the ally before saying,

"Batman wants you to go home, it's too—"

"Say dangerous kid and I'll kick you. I can take care of myself, song bird. And tell the Dark Knight that if I even think I see him, you, Batgirl or Nightwing, I _will _get him on stalking."

"But, Scarecrow…"

"Will never have kids once I'm done kicking his, oh, never mind! I am not afraid of Jonathan Crane and I can take care of myself."

I actually do go home. Wanda kept harassing me with texts and calls until I did, right as she left for her waitressing job at the Iceberg Lounge. Around noon, I start to get bored. I have plenty of video games and books to occupy my time. Sadly the idea of being trapped in my apartment takes away the allure of a Bruce Wayne biography or a Superman versus Deathstroke game.

My pager beeps and I start singing Hallelujah. I slip out of my civilian clothes and into my blue and black uniform, slide my Glock into the holster and pin the nametag on "M. Lyonehart" etched in black on the golden plate. I start skipping down to the elevator, happy to be returning to my job.

"Hello, Lyonehart." Doctor Wissler beams. When I arrived, Doctor Arkham informed me of my new post in the asylum's most guarded wing. Wissler and I are standing at the very end of the hallway before a solid steel door.

"What's up, Doc?" I jest, but Doctor Wissler's smile has vanished. "Sorry…"

"Lyonehart, due to your excellent job with Arkham's danger wing, and the unfortunate lack of patents in said wing, Doctor Arkham and I had decided to promote you from evening shift guard to the permanent guard of Arkham's most dangerous tenant."

"Victor Zsasz." I say happily. She opens the door, and I am face to face with Gotham's most notorious serial killer. He is dressed in the required orange jumpsuit, but his head lacks hair, and in its place a collection of tally marks, four large ones on his forehead. I have heard that his entire body is covered in them, even the more sensitive parts. He stares at me with emotionless, misty eyes.

"What you do, Lyonehart, is stay here with Victor, check his restraints every hour," She points to the chain around his neck that limit his movement from his bed, toilet ,and desk, "You will also keep your gun trained on him when someone brings his food in, and will escort him to all therapy sessions. This job goes from nine in the morning to ten in the evening. Any questions?" I look back at Zsasz and shake my head.

"I'm sure he will be no trouble. Right, Mister Zsasz?" I smile at him, but his face remains stone. I harden my own face, deciding that trying to tease this prisoner is not the best of ideas. Doctor Wissler leaves the room, Zsasz and I locked in a staring contest, his once stone cold face molds into a feral smile.

"Lyonehart, is it? Tell me, do you really have the heart of a lion?" His yellow teeth bared at me are chilling and disgusting.

"I do indeed, Mister Zsasz." He laughs. Zsasz brings his chair over and sits.

"Tell me, Lyonehart, how did you get along with those in the danger wing? I used to be there, until my last doctor…died unexpectedly." He chuckles as he walks as close to me as possible, about two feet away, reaching his hand out and clenching my face, digging in his nails to the point where I can feel them puncture my flesh. As the blood leeks down my face, Zsasz releases me to return to his bed, holding up his bloodied hand with a lustful smile on his lips.

I wipe my cheek, "You son of a…" I aim my gun at his smug little face. He wipes the blood on his pant leg and shakes his head.

"Currently, I am of no harm to you, Lyonehart. You have the gun and I am, regrettably, without my knife. It would be rather pointless to try and kill you now. When they come for me however, then you will need to worry, because then the game will begin." I lower the Glock, returning it to my hip holster, eyeing him warily.

"Game, Mister Zsasz? What game?"

"Well, one of the best that dear Joker and Riddler came up with. You've made powerful enemies, you see, but unlike most Arkham guards you stayed. With that, you've challenged us, Scarecrow especially. By calling Riddler by his birth name you chose to disrespect his title and therefore his intellect; Joker has had a vendetta against you from day one, but since none of his usual tricks worked on you, you can bet he has something special in store; me, oh, I have a place close to my heart for all my escorts; but Scarecrow…he is your biggest threat."

"How?"

"You do not react to any of his drawings, anything that might faze a normal guard was met with anger and let's not forget, you escaped the combo Joker's/Fear Gas from last night." It had both? I guess Jack Ryder doesn't tell everything. "He hates you for that, and we all will stop at nothing to be the one who makes Mike the Lion Heart break."

**Well, I hope my first FanFiction is good, but I have the feeling it is going too fast. If you think it is do not hesitate to tell me. Feel free to critique, praise or whatever you feel like, except for flame, I hear those are the equivalent of a Howler. So, just, ya'know, review please. **


	2. Trust No One

**Arkham Knight **

In the months since Zsasz's warning, I have kept my guard up 24/7. I over examine everything, and the gun never leaves my hip. Right now I have a cold steel chair, straddling it and watching Zsasz as he stares at the white ceiling, or he is asleep. Taking my eyes off him for a minute, I examine the corners of the room and, sure enough, cameras, cameras everywhere. In fact, if I think back, it was pretty stupid to send in one guard into the asylum's danger wing unless they had a way to help them, and even now, there is only one person guarding one of the worst men in Gotham history, so it would only make sense for there to be an un-Godly amount of cameras.

"How old are you, Lyonehart?" Zsasz inquires in a bored voice, a slight slowness to it. It appears he just woke up. I eye him in distain while crossing my arms.

"It doesn't matter, now does it, Mister Zsasz?" I retort. I stand as my watch beeps for the noon checking of his chains. I approach him, one hand on my hip, and tell him to stand, which he does.

As I run my hands over the neck brace feeling for any wear, Zsasz leans to my ear and whispers, "It does matter very much, Lyonehart. It means a lot for us." I start feeling the steel chain, pulling every link in silence until I hit the wall. "Please?" He whines folding his hands and failing at a puppy pout, it's kinda cute and disturbing at the same time.

I groan, "One: it is very rude to ask a woman her age."

"Noted."

"And two: if you must know I am thirty-two, I have been here for nearly twenty years." He busts out in hysterical laughter. _Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, freak…_

"You're a bit younger than expected. John had enough serum for a fifty year old to be safe, but seeing as how you are younger than even me... the reaction would be horrendous. Maybe I shouldn't tell him, just for fun." He starts whispering about the little game he and three other escapees are planning. So far, Two-Face has been caught, and he cooperated to everyone's surprise. He should be in Pacification. I wonder…

"Mister Zsasz—"

"Please, we've known each other for so long, call me Victor." Okay…

"_Victor," _It tastes wrong comeing out of my mouth, "would Harvey Dent know about ya'lls little game?" He blinks with a tilt of the head. Tapping his lip with a forefinger, he stated that he has no idea.

"He and Edward are awful close, but I don't think that of all people that Riddler would ever blab to another criminal of his plans, especially one as, well, two-faced as Harvey." He smiles with a low chuckle, "why not ask him?" My lunch break cover comes in.

"I will, Victor. You can count on it."

An hour and a half is all I have to get to Two-Face and return with any information. My shoes click on the white tile floor as I run though hall after hall. I skid to a halt; there is a small detour in my path. One of the automatic doors is malfunctioning, opening and closing at random.

"You have got to be joking I don't have time for this!" Around me I can hear the patients banging against their doors, pressing their faces against the square windows wondering what I am going to do. I glance around, praying for another route.

"Jump!"

"RunrunrunrunRUN!"

"Fly!"

They shout suggestions, some helpful but some totally off the wall. I can see why some are here. With no other way out, I brace myself for pain and launch myself at the metal door. Time seems to slow as by the hand of God my timing is perfect and I make it through just before several hundred pounds of steel clangs together. The patients cheer as I regain my footing and start to run again.

After fifteen minutes I arrive in the Patient Transfer Unit, men in straightjackets and in cages being escorted to therapy or to lunch or their cells. This high security building has a very prison-like feel to it, perhaps it is too much, but one can never be too safe when dealing with lunatics and super villains. Wissler and Whistler—pronounced Whistler and Visler, the former being the newest—are both walking to the double doors. It seems they are not waiting to get Two-Face into therapy. My guess is they are going to try and weed out information on the remaining three patients.

I have to hurry, I only have an hour left, but if Two-Face is in therapy…I'll have to come back later. I curse to myself and turn to go back to Zsasz, when suddenly, BAM! I face first hit someone in the chest and fall on my butt.

"I didn't see you there." A male voice says while his body helps me to my feet. I hear laughing, and not a cold laugh, but genuine laughter that can only belong to one man.

"Shut up, Cash." I say with a playful frown. Waving of my comment with his hook for a hand, Aaron Cash uses his other to gesture to the man dusting off my shoulder.

"Officer Lyonehart, I would like to introduce to you our best founder, Bruce Wayne." I look up to the man's face. Bruce Wayne smiles at me, his black hair shinning and clear blue eyes full of intelligence and trust. "Mister Wayne, Micah Lyonehart." He extends his hand and I take it. His grip is strong but comforting.

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Lyonehart." I find my voice.

"Please, Mister Wayne, call me Mike, everyone does." His face turns cold for a moment, as if remembering something, but, as fast as it happened, his face returned to its warm former self.

"I apologize, the last person…oh, never mind." He chuckles awkwardly.

"Hey, Mike."

"Yes, Cash?"  
"Aren't you supposed to be watching Zsasz?" I look at my watch. Twenty minutes…how does time go so fast? I must have gasped because Cash laughs and says, "That's what I thought."

"Thanks for reminding me, Cash. It was an honor to meet you, Mister Wayne." I start to run back when I hear from behind me,

"Call me Bruce!"

"Anything?" Zsasz inquires after I used ten minutes to catch my breath. I shake my head.

"He went from Pacification and was transferred to a therapy session. I couldn't even talk to him." In frustration, I kick the concrete wall, hurting my toe but not enough for a facial reaction. Zsasz is laughing, not a cruel laugh that I expect, but one that is genuinely amused. "Funny?"

"Yes, it is funny. If you actually thought you could reach Harvey in time, I think Edward is going to get you first. Oh, that reminds me, Cobblepot is holding bets at the Iceberg Lounge. You may want to stop by. Wanda is so looking forward to telling you tonight. Strange, normally Cobblepot doesn't hire girls with colored hair. Perhaps he is having a change of heart." My heart leaps at the sound of her name, worry for her safety fills my being.

"Where exactly are you getting this information, Victor?"

"Like I would tell you!" He snaps and then, calmly, he brings his chair next to his bed and pats it, "Please, Lyonehart, take a seat. It has been too long since we last had a heart to heart." I feel like taking the seat, maybe I can weed more information out of Zsasz, maybe I can…

"Officer Lyonehart," Cash peaks in, "It's time for his session." With a nod, I walk to the wall and unhook Zsasz from the wall as Cash chains his hands, feet and muzzles him. Cash put his hand on my shoulder, taking the chain from me with his hook, saying, "Doctor Arkham and Whistler want you to take the rest of the day off. I can handle Zsasz you get some sleep, or a strong drink." He laughs and leads Zsasz from the room. Before the door can close, I gasp as Zsasz whispers,

"Have the lambs stopped screaming?"

"Welcome to…M-Mike?" Wanda looks in shock at me perusing the drinks menu. "What are you doing here?" I examine her uniform, an extreme case of the giggles overtaking me. Black high heels, fishnet stockings, what seems to be a black one piece swimsuit with a bowtie and dress jacket.

"An associate of mine recommended Oswald Cobblepott's fine establishment, and Victor Zsasz does have a taste for the finer things in life." She gasps and whispers harshly,

"This is no time to joke, Mike."

"There is always time for a good joke, Wanda." I point to the list, "and a nice Merlot of your choosing, please." She leans in fear etched in her every word.

"My boss has been waiting for you. I've seen the betting board in the basement. Everyone is talking about a game. Mike, what's going on?"

"Is there a problem, Miss Napier?" She turns swiftly with a gasp.

"No-no, Mister Cobblepot, just taking her order, sir." A small man dressed finely, his long black hair slicked in a ponytail walks up to me, a crooked smile on the lips of a crooked man.

"Hello, Penguin."  
"Officer Lyonehart, I have heard so much about you. Come, come, there are people in my—ahem—_private _room wanting to see you." He shoos a worried Wanda away, I tell her I'll fill her in tomorrow morning and Penguin weaves easily through all the tables, people and waitresses. I am his height and half his weight, but I can barely go two feet without hitting someone or something.

Finally, he stops at a decorative wall, posters of Wonder City, the Vicki Vale Show, Jack Ryder and more littered in a seemingly random order. Pressing on the poster for for Wonder City, he sneers, "Going down." and the floor vanishes. I land hard and black out, laughter staying with me even in my dreams.

"Wakey-wakey, sweetheart." I am tied to a soft chair that is pulled up to a small circular table. Penguin is across from me but it is the three others that worry me.

Dressed in a forest green vest and white shirt, his dark green jacket on the back, Jervis Tetch, alias the Mad Hatter, moves his dark green top hat atop his head, his sandy blond mullet disheveling slightly as his misty gray eyes examine the Bicycle cards before him, setting them down and looking at me with a polite smile.

"Hello, my dear."

A shirt buttoned only at the bust, her skin a florescent green with vine like an intricate tattoo as well as censoring her body, Pamela Isley holds her cards in a nonchalant manor, her glowing green eyes staying on me in curiosity. That's right I never had to deal with her. She stayed in the Green Mile. Fitting.

The third is a surprise, I had not even realized before now that he would be here, I thought he was on the side of good, but barely on the side of sanity. His naked upper body a yellowish color, black hair with reflective green highlights, a fury red boa used as a cape of sorts, and with a wild grin, the Creeper says, "Hiya, toots."

"Uh, what's going on?" I glance around at the villains around me, finally resting on Creeper, "Don't call me that, okay. If you're going to call me anything, call me Mike." I look at Penguin, "Answers, Cobblepot, now." He wipes off his molecule and addresses his card game.

"Lady and gentlemen, may I introduce the woman who the entire hubbub is about, Micah Lyonehart, known to Arkham Inmates as Mike the Lion Heart."

"What a crock of shit, Penguin. Would you untie me, please?" I thrash around in the chair until Poison Ivy uses a barb, oh God I hope it's not poisoned, to slice the ropes. "Much obliged, Ivy." "Please, we'll be seeing a lot of each other, call me Pam." She takes her seat before continuing, "In fact, Oswald here expects you to come here every night starting tonight, right Ozzy?"

"Indeed, what do you say, Mike?" I assess the glass of wine on the table before taking a sip.

"Can't, I'm in charge of Victor Zsasz thirteen hours a day six days a week, the only reason I am here tonight is Aaron Cash gave me the night off, well, technically Jeremiah Arkham did, but no one really likes him. An added plus is my friend Wanda Napier, whom you, _Ozzy_, shooed away while I was ordering, works here. Nice uniforms by the way, no wonder Zsasz talks about this place so much." I down the wine, probably gaining a red moustache so I lick my top lip in case. Creeper cocks his brow, taking my gesture in a suggestive manor by the look in his eyes.

"Oh, I think I can make arraignments, maybe have you watching Mister Zsasz for eight hours, nine to five, and have you here by seven. As for Miss Napier, she will be promoted and will work down here as your personal waitress." I rub my chin the idea of Wanda serving me is very, very tempting.

"I like it, Cobblepot. Tell you what, I may be a law enforcer, but you pull the strings and I'll be here." With a smile I see one of Penguin's workers refill my glass. I grab the tails of her jacket, "Just leave the bottle, please." She obliges, the look in her eyes saying, 'Good luck, honey.'

"As for me, call me Jervis, and Creeper?" He eyes me and with a wicked smile says,

"Baby, call me whatever you like," followed by a suggestive wink.

"So I guess 'Insufferable Asshole' is available?" Everyone but Creeper starts laughing, he mumbles about just calling him Creeper. "And what do I call you, Monocle Man?"

"Oswald, I suppose, now, back to business. Harv told me about the little game Joker and the others are planning. I am a business man after all, and I take an opportunity where I can get it."

"Yes," I growl, "Victor told me that you have bets as to who will get me first. Who has the most going for 'em?" I growl taking a drink from my glass. Penguin presses a button under the table and a holographic board appears in the center of the table.

"Victor has thirty. Ever since the incident with Doctor Cassidy a while back, many think his specialty in sneak will keep you looking over your shoulders and drive you mad before he gets his coveted mark. And seeing you, I think it is going to be an especially painful tally." I sneer in disgust.

"That's nasty, Oswald."

"That's Victor for you. Now then, Eddie has twelve. You seem intelligent enough to survive many of his traps and puzzles, so if he does get you, that is a lot of money for me."

"Not happening."  
"As for Joker and Jonathan, well…it is a tie at two hundred and fifty." I stop mid drink. Ivy, Hatter and Creeper just look at it, what seems to be genuine concern of their faces.

"The odds are not in your favor, Mike." Hatter says, "Joker is bad enough, but Crane has sworn to be the winner, even at cost of life."

"Yes, and Joker isn't taking his pledge well," Ivy adds, "So he is using any available resource to try and beat him. For him it is not about breaking your spirit…"

"It is about breaking you in general." Creeper finishes.

"Which is why they are tied. Joker has the resources to do anything, but John-John has the will and the grudge of the whole Spartan Army. You, who fear nothing, might want to reconsider your position on that."

"He-he'll hurt Wanda." I stammer. "Please, Mister Cobblepot, can you protect her? This is between me and those animals, but you are a respectable man and she is your employee. Can you guard her?" Without word, Penguin presses another button, a new board appears. The title is "She will Survive". The numbers are astonishing.

"As you can see, the fifth board is a very…strange one. It was not my original intent for the creation of this one, but it is there, nevertheless." I could the amount of bets for me to get through this; there are five.

"Only five believe in me?" I face Penguin. "Who are they? The people who betted for me." He smiles and raises his hand, as does Ivy, Hatter and Creeper. "Well, strange as this is, that is only four people, who is the fifth?" The group smiles, though the Creeper's is uneasy.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Miss Lyonehart." Penguin states disguarding his playing cards and while Ivy and Hatter copy, Creeper holds his protectively.

"Will we play Blackjack or not? I'm getting board over here." He whines.

"Not tonight, Creeper. There has been a change in plans. Pamela, please summon the fifth better. Miss Lyonehart does deserve to meet her in my opinion." Her, is it a female. That will balance out the gender in the room at least. Ivy walks away for a few moments. Giggling can be heard, what sounds like idle gossip and harsh whispers. When she reappears she states that _she _will be here momentarily.

It takes an hour for her to arrive. By now my wine is gone and Creeper's flirting has almost reached a vomit worthy response. It was his "you're a lesbo, aren't you?" that earned him the black eye that Hatter is nursing with a pleased smile. My response of "no I am not," further added to the moods both men are in.

There is a knock on the door, and Ivy runs to it before anyone else can react. The first thing I hear is "What the Hell happened to Creeper?" In a high pitched Brooklyn accent makes me stand, knocking the chair down and say,

"Harley Quinn?"

**Adrian: Hello again. I know it has been forever sense I last updated but I have been busy. Real world stuff and all…it sucks. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the new update. Review and all that if you wish. **


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